The Hero Who Conquered the Dentist's Office
by TheRockNRollBeauty
Summary: "Alfred Jones hated the dentist. He hated it as much as he hated spiders and less than he hated ghosts. A haunted dentist's office would be an absolute nightmare for him." Dentist!Ivan, birthday fic written for ahmerst.


**Hello! So this here was a gift for ahmerst of lj/tumblr fame for her birthday! She wanted dentist!Ivan, so I tried my best to deliver. :) And Ivan makes a surprisingly good/creepy dentist, believe it or not. :)**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>Alfred Jones hated the dentist.<p>

He hated it as much as he hated spiders and less than he hated ghosts. A haunted dentist's office would be an absolute nightmare for him.

This dentist office he was in right now didn't look haunted, but that didn't make things any easier for Alfred.

For one, the office was too _white_. Alfred hated that. It wasn't that he hated white, no, he was wearing his favorite American flag sneakers right now and they had white in them. But he hated white when it was on it's own, without any other colors. White with red and blue was fine, but white with _white_ was just boring and made Alfred think he was in some kind of hospital or mental ward.

Alfred sunk further in his chair as he sulked, digging the heels of his shoes into the grey carpet. The waiting room was the most lifeless place he had ever seen. He was the only person there other than the receptionist, though his mom would be coming back in a few minutes. She had forgotten something in the car, and gone back to retrieve it, leaving Alfred all alone in the white hellhole with nothing but a couple of torn, months-old magazines and soft muzak that was beginning to drive him insane.

_Hell, maybe this was a fucking mental ward. Yeah, that was it! _

His old dentist's office at least tried to make the experience more bearable. There were video games in the lobby, and the entire office itself had some kind of childish space and astronaut motif. And after all was done with the dental assistants would let you pick out a cheap plastic toy from a large basket to take home. It was corny—but damn it, Alfred _liked_ it. He shoved his hands further into his pockets and ducked his head into his sweatshirt, like a turtle closing back into its own shell.

"Alfred," His mom sat in the chair next to him nudging his shoulder to get the teen's attention, "Go up to the front desk and sign in your name in so they know we're here." Alfred's head swiveled, and he raised his eyebrow.

"But, Mom," He whined, "Aren't you supposed to do that?"

She simply "tsked" in response and went back to reading her magazine.

"You're almost an adult now, Alfred. I think you can handle signing your name and address, right?"

The teen grumbled and pushed himself to his feet, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and walking over to the front desk, where he was met with the smiling, baby-faced receptionist, who looked up at him with wide, friendly blue eyes. Alfred's eyes were unfortunately not drawn to her eyes—rather a bit _lower_—but the women didn't seem to notice, as she greeted him with a slightly accented voice.

"Good afternoon! Are you signing in today?"

"Uh, uh yeah."

Alfred blushed a little and scratched his cheek. It didn't help that the receptionist was crazy cute—and that she had an amazing coughed and looked down, quickly scribbling his name and the date of his appointment on the sign in sheet before giving the receptionist a jerky wave and shambling back to the row of seats.

He flopped next to his mom, hoping that a show of sullen demeanor would somehow make her feel bad that she'd dragged him to this place. But she didn't pay any attention to him and his silent whining, simply pushing up her wire frame as she continued to read.

After a moment Alfred huffed and looked around, slouching in his chair.

The office sure was _boring_. So, so, so _boring_. All stale stark white—not even stupid pictures of dumb landscapes on the walls.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly mass texted "I'm bored" to half the people in his contact list. He might get a few sympathy texts from Kiku and Toris and maybe a curt "shut up" from Arthur, but nothing too interesting.

There was a stack of magazines on the coffee table next to him. He flipped through, briefly, finding no topics of interest other than cookings and economics. He groaned inwardly and let the ream of magazines flop back into the pile.

"Alfred Jones?" The receptionist suddenly called, breaking the pall of quiet boredom. Alfred glanced up, and when he didn't immediately move, his mother folded his magazine and nudged him in the shoulder. He stumbled to his feet, swallowing dryly as he approached the receptionist's counter. Not noticing his nerves, she simply smiled and indicated towards a door to the left.

"Go right in, please. Dr. Braginski will be waiting for you."

Alfred nearly fled the dentist's office right then and there. Dr. _Braginski_? What kind of a name was that? It made Alfred think of a host of supervillains and commie spies and mad scientists. And it definitely didn't sound like the twig of person whose fingers he wanted stuck in his mouth.

Alfred turned to his mother, perhaps hoping at a last ditch effort to call the whole thing off, but she was thoroughly engrossed in flipping through one of the tableside magazines. The boy pouted, before turning and going through the door, feeling very much like a dead man walking.

There was a tinier, more compact lobby right beyond the door, covered with posters in a language that Alfred couldn't understand—all of the letters looked like tiny blocks. He shuddered a little and looked around, trying to find another source of life.

_Oh God, what if this was a trap? Or maybe a fake dentist's office? Oh God he was going to wake up in a bathtub full of ice with his kidney missing, wasn't he?_

One of the doors in the small lobby creaked, and Alfred's skeleton almost jumped out of his skin and fled for the exit at the noise. But instead, he remained rooted, a teenaged animal caught in the proverbial headlights, as the door creaked ajar and out stepped a _man_.

It first registered to Alfred how damn tall the man was, so tall that his head almost grazed the top of the doorframe. The next thing that Alfred noticed was that the man was _big_—an appearance that the loose fitting white medical coat did not detract from. The pale, nearly white hair on his head almost seemed to fall around his face like a cowl—and that, coupled with the ghost-white skin and piercing heather eyes made him seem liked a looming specter. If he had a scythe or a length of jangling chains the picture would have been perfect enough to scare Alfred witless.

And then the dentist smiled, and Alfred's nightmare was complete.

"Ah, you must be Alfred Jones? I am Doctor Braginski. Come right in."

Alfred almost thought of saying "no" but then he imagine the giant dentist would just reach over and break him in half like a bendy straw. So he he simply nodded meekly.

Dr. Braginski smiled and led Alfred back into the exam room, and the young teenager felt more like a child then he ever had at his other dentist, hidden in the shadow of the towering doctor as he was.

The exam room was just as white as the lobby and the waiting room, perhaps even more so. It was weird, how Dr. Braginski, with his pale hair and pale face and white coat seemed to blend in with the room, almost like he was part of it. Alfred shivered at the thought as he tentatively climbed into the dentist chair. He laid down and crossed his hand over his stomach, doing his best to mask the feeling of his increasing vulnerability.

The dentist's assistant stood close by, clad in a pair of pink scrubs with her long, light brown hair tied back. Alfred almost gasped when he first saw her, as she appeared to materialize from the very starkness of the room. She bound a cloth bib quickly around Alfred's neck before jamming a few terrible tasting cotton balls into the pouch of his cheeks, her movement practical and unkind.

"Now," Dr. Braginski said, snapping on a pair of white latex gloves as his assistant sterilized the tray of tools, "Alfred, you can open your mouth for me, no?"

_Oh God, _Alfred wished the damn dentist didn't have to _talk_. He had the same type of accent that the receptionist had, but deeper, thicker, and a thousand percent more _menacing_. It was hard enough to watch as the giant man pulled on a thick white mask and took up a terrifying looking tool in one hand. He didn't look that much like a ghost now—rather, the dentist looked more like some kind of mad commie-nazi scientist ready to prey upon the helpless hero. Alfred could barely stop a whimper from coming from his mouth when the dentist bent over him, flat purple eyes flicking up and down as Alfred shakily opened up his mouth.

"Ah, that will not do, little one. I will need for you to open your mouth wider."

And before Alfred could even make the tiniest gurgle of protest he felt the dentist reached down and pry his jaw apart wider. He jolted, startled and about to shut his mouth down on the dentist's fingers when something thick and tasting of latex was shoved between the two layers of teeth, holding his jaw open. Even through the bright exam room light, Alfred could see Dr. Braginski's smile, all sinister shark teeth.

"Ah, do you see? This makes things much easier for me."

Alfred could only gag in response as his watering mouth dried at the sight of the dentist's hands, armed with the scary metal tool, plunging into his helpless mouth. Alfred dug his fingers into the armrests as the dentist began to scrape around his teeth without mercy.

_Fuck, _Alfred swore as he felt uncomfortable tears well up in his eyes. It didn't help that the dentist had freakish sausage fingers, and that those monstrosities were pulling apart his mouth and poking around his gums. Alfred felt like he was going to gag, maybe even choke to death on the stupid dentist's stupid fat commie fingers.

_No! No fucking way! Alfred was the damn hero in this story, and there was no way he would going to meet his end at the hand of some nasty-ass dentist weirdo!_

And then, suddenly, one of the fat fucking fingers holding the metal deathtool probed too hard against one of Alfred's teeth, and the sensitive spot made the teenager jolt in his chair and half whine, half garble out his pain. Dr. Braginski clicked his tongue and mercifully pulled back a bit, though the teasing grin on his face made Alfred believe that he would like nothing better than to poke and prod at the sore spot again. Alfred glared at him, but Dr. Braginski paid it no mind as he continued scraping and spraying at Alfred's teeth with some water and some chalky, awful tasting foam

"All done!" Dr. Braginski exclaimed with far more cheer than any dentist should _ever_ have _ever_, and Alfred was gradually cranked back up into a sitting position by the intimidating looking assistant, who practically tore the cotton swabs from Alfred's mouth and ripped the plastic bib from around his neck. The teenager couldn't get out of the chair _that had almost been his coffin_ fast enough, nearly tripping on his way to his feet.

Alfred half hoped that maybe he could get some king of cheap plastic toy as his reward, his medal of honor for surviving through such an ordeal, but neither the dentist nor the assistant moved to open any hidden cache of childish delight, so Alfred simply wiped his nasty, _too clean_ mouth on his sleeve and followed the dentist out of the exam room. Thankfully, it was the kind receptionist who next took him under her wing, leading him to a room where she snapped a few x-rays of his teeth before releasing him back out into the lobby, where his mother wait to speak with the dentist.

After a moment Dr. Braginski emerged from the door, holding a clipboard and flipping through the papers and x rays pinned there. His mother got up—Al shuffling awkwardly at her side—and walked over to where the dentist stood, immediately questioning him on how the examination went. Dr. Braginski lowered the clipboard, eyes moving to Alfred's shirking form even as he spoke to his mother.

"Yes, Alfred is fine for the most part, but—I am afraid he has a cavity in one of the molars on his left side—" Alfred could _swear_ that he saw a slip of a dragon's grin at that, "That will need to be filled. Perhaps we can arrange the appointment now?

His mother mumbled something about "too many candy and soda," making Alfred cross his arms and pout. Dr. Braginski saw that, and gave a polite, amused laugh.

"Perhaps getting a cavity drilled with convince little Alfred to take care of his teeth. Perhaps flossing regularly, mm?"

Alfred grumbled and shifted on his feet, shooting a long, pouting glance at Dr. Braginski before looking down to his sneakers. _Flossing my ass_. Alfred was going to go home and eat all the hard candy and soda and Fruit Rollups that he wanted just to spite the evil jerk. Then next time he would come in and his breath and teeth would be so bad that the mad dentist would faint on his feet or maybe drop dead! Alfred smirked a little at the thought, looking up at Dr. Braginski as he issued a silent, one-sided challenge to the crazy doc.

Next time—_next time_—he would definitely conquer the dentist's office.


End file.
